


And laughed until I wept.

by adalialives



Category: Doctor Who (2005), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Adding The Characters As I Go Along And Decide Who I Want To Be In It, But They Are All Almost Always Wrong, Gen, Humor, It's Funny Until It's Not, None Of These Jerkwads Have A Good Excuse They're All Jerkwads, Not Apologist Friendly, Not Humor, Please Keep That In Mind, Problematic Thoughts of Problematic Characters, Taking Suggestions For Characters, The Whole Thing Is Problematic Probably, They All Victim Blame A Lot, it's kind of all over the place, problematic characters
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-02-09
Updated: 2017-03-16
Packaged: 2018-05-19 08:07:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,126
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5960212
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/adalialives/pseuds/adalialives
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>I thought I would do over</i><br/><i>All of it. I was tired</i><br/><i>Of scars and stains, of bleared</i><br/><i>Panes, tinge of the liver.</i><br/><i>The fuchsia in the center</i><br/><i>Looked positively weird</i><br/><i>I felt it—dry as paper.</i><br/><i>I called a decorator.</i><br/><i>In next to no time such</i><br/><i>A nice young man appeared.</i><br/><i>What had I in mind?</i><br/><i>Oh, lots and lots of things—</i><br/><i>Fresh colors, pinks and whites</i><br/><i>That one would want to touch;</i><br/><i>The windows redesigned;</i><br/><i>The plant thrown out in favor,</i><br/><i>Say, of a small tree,</i><br/><i>An orange or a pear...</i><br/>- "The Candid Decorator", James Merill</p><p>In which Missy leads a group of fellow psychopaths on a journey that for any other kind of person would be self-discovery. Unfortunately, they're all in denial... But they do learn a few things on the way, so at least it's not a complete waste of time.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Introduction

**Author's Note:**

> This is a multi-chapter fic, and I had rough drafts of a good portion of it written. However, I have no idea where they went. Maybe on my bricked old computer? Please feel free to mention a team up you would like to see in the comments! The two chapters that I had written, were, according to the old notes, GLaDOS from the Portal series and Kilgrave from AKA Jessica Jones - the only criteria I'm looking for here is 'psychotic antagonist obsessed with protagonist cannot figure out what they are doing wrong in life'. I am also going to pop Makishima Shogo from Psycho Pass in here, probably.

The sky on Earth still seems strange, no matter how long she has been away from Gallifrey - she? He? They? Xe? Missy supposes it doesn’t really matter. It’s like the robin’s egg blue sky, this concept of gender - strange, but ultimately irrelevant, and possibly something she’ll never get used to. There are things Missy would never admit about Earth, or its sky, like how soothing it is. Oranges and reds are energetic; violent, even. This is serene, sedate. She likes that. Rarely does she ever see a truly blood-red sky on this planet, and that is a good thing.

That would be a surprising thing to learn about her, she thinks, that she never really liked seeing the sky like that. She seems the type to want bloody oceans and skies, but really, that’s not her at all. She’s very, very careful to ensure that she’s the only one aware of it, though. The Doctor likely suspects. He keeps trying to offer her alternatives to chaos and madness, after all. She keeps refusing, because the only thing worse than walking the path she’s carved out for herself would be turning back and following his.

Maybe.

Missy is never quite sure, that’s the thing. She has a list of things she wants: chief amongst them is to have her (only) friend back. Second, she would like the universe to be more orderly and logical. Emotion and religion have no place in decision making, in her opinion. Practicality is ideal. The problem, of course, is balance, and she knows she has a problem keeping anything resembling that. All the best warlords in history had a strong belief in the greater good, in applying ideals about practicality and progression - but they were all wrong about what beliefs those were, or something like that. That is when things go off the rails and people get hurt. Missy, contrary to popular belief, does not want to murder with impunity, but it is a side effect of her imperfect ideology. She knows she hasn’t quite figured out how to produce the perfect society, but that’s what the list is for. It is a list of things she wants, not things she has.

The third and last thing is to be happy. It’s a new addition to the list, because for a long time, Missy had thought the other two things were what would one day make her happy. She still hopes that they will, but it is not out of a sudden flash of insight that she separated this particular item from the other two. She did not abruptly realize that happiness has to come from within, and it will likely be quite some time, if ever, before she does - no, she simply realized that the odds of retrieving her friendship with the Doctor are slightly worse than her odds of finally figuring out the formula for a perfect clockwork universe. Missy gave it its own line out of pessimism.

This is not the story of how Missy learned to be content with who she was, nor the story of how she finally crafted the perfect dystopian government. It is, perhaps, the story of how she got her friend back, as well as more cats than she would ever like to admit, and a few other friends besides. It is also a story that belongs to those ‘few other friends’ she picked up on this failed journey of self-discovery, and their fumbled social interactions as well.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Missy has been making lists for a year, some of which were important, some of which were not. Today's list is fairly important; it involves cookies, coffee, and inroads into the MCU.

Missy’s list of things she wants - important things, mind you - has not changed. She has added a much longer list of less important things. It changes from day to day, you see, depending on her whims.

Today, it consists of (in no particular order) a proper espresso, authentic macarons, and a focus group, so she sits in Cormery in the early 1800s with her caffeinated anachronism in hand. That, she picked up en route, in the mid 2010s in some hipster cafe in America. It’s probably some kind of affront to the entire coffee drinking population, really, to have picked one up there, but what can she say? The baristas there are pleasantly vicious to people with unnecessarily complicated orders, and Missy respects that. She’s almost tempted to invite them to her focus group.

Unfortunately, they only wield so much power. It’s a shame, really. She kind of likes them.

Espresso in one hand, phone in the other. She probably shouldn’t call it a phone. She adds that to the list - find a new name for the incredible, revolutionary technology she jimmied together. Maybe her focus group can help her think of a name, if she could focus long enough to actually sift through the profiles on her not-phone and finalize the list of recruits.

The problem is where to _start._ She has _so many_ options, in so many different timelines, but she has to be cautious, make her decisions carefully, because if she realizes a potential, she has a very good chance of losing another. It is, unfortunately, the way timelines work. If only the Scarlet Witch hadn’t gone down the route of good, if only Missy hadn’t let that timeline resolve that way and set it in stone… But a loss is a loss, and the Time Lady moves right along.

She starts with constants, people whose existences are so large, so overwhelming, that no amount of decisions could change the fact that they existed. It’s probably a bad idea, too ambitious, but the humans say “go big or go home” and they managed to at least get that philosophy right.

So, Loki it is. He’s old, he’s ambitious, he’s gender ambivalent and Missy probably shouldn’t assume he wants to be called “he” but it’s that irrelevant gender thing again and she figures it really doesn’t matter. The problem, she thinks, is that he is too much like her, and will be suspicious that she plans to usurp his power. It’s what she would think in his situation - an alien with powers that rival her own, when she has an entire realm under her thrall? Oh, that’s a coup if she’s ever heard of one, but Asgard is _boring_ and she doesn’t want it. She wants a focus group.

(So maybe it’s not a focus group so much as she wants friends, but every time the idea starts to surface from her subconscious, she places her heel firmly on it and grinds it back into the dusty corners of the recesses of her mind. The idea is damn persistent, though. It frustrates her.)

The only solution, then, is to come to him as a true equal, without appearing to have any ambition for more. She has to offer some sort of trade, some sort of alliance.

It’s a good thing she hasn’t ever been there, because she is a _genius_ and really, she should have thought of this plan _years_ ago.

“Greetings, milord,” Missy announces with a curtsy. “You see that I am unarmed; perhaps it would be best to dismiss your guards. You see, when one rules over the dead, one must exist outside of time, and therefore, it is very, very hard to keep secrets from me.” She winks at him conspiratorially. “I don’t think you want them knowing what I know,” she says in a sing-song.

Odin, who is not Odin, glares at her. “You dare threaten me?”

“Oh, darling, it’s not a threat, it’s an inevitability. Someone’s going to find out about your horse being your grandson sooner or later,” Missy coos, and Not-Odin looks utterly baffled. “It’s a joke, dear, if the humans had their way I’d be sort of your granddaughter - or your daughter,” she says, pointedly, and it’s not a joke, and Loki immediately dismisses the guards, looking uneasy. He’s not sure that she knows what she knows, but he clearly got the hint.

“On Earth, they say Hel is eponymous for the woman who rules over it, and that she is the daughter of Loki. Well, let me tell you, kiddo, I’ve got at least a millenium on you, if not more, and I do not take kindly to the insinuation. I never. Maligning the good name of Time Lords everywhere. _And_ I prefer Missy. Hel sounds so... mid-2000s emo kid.”

“What do you want?” he demands.

“Oh, do be a bit more talkative, _Dad_ , I’m not here to take over. You see, that’s why I went through all the trouble I did to rebuild my empire of the dead after I let them loose on Earth for a birthday gift. Did you hear about that? I hear the Avengers nearly _shit_ themselves, your dear brother included, when metal zombies started walking the Earth. Priceless. I have selfies, I’ll show you later,” Missy tells him, waving her hand.

Loki’s head is in his hand. “Do you ever stop talking and get to the point?” he asks.

“Sometimes. But if I stopped talking, then I wouldn't be able to get to the point, so clearly, not at the same time. Anyway. You’ve got everything you want, but I don’t, and before you get that sourpuss look on your face, I’m not planning on taking anything you’ve got, except maybe your dead people, but that’s just what I do, and if you’re nice, maybe for your birthday you can have them back one day. I want to pick your brain. Two heads are better than one, and on a good day, I’m sort of omniscient, so I can tell you for a fact, Thor’s gonna find out what you’re doing here, and he’s not gonna be happy. I scratch your back, make sure that fallout doesn’t hit you too hard, you scratch mine. I’ve got a do-gooder thorn in my side, too, and I’m thinking between the two of us, we could come up with some excellent ways to cope.”

“You come in here, you blackmail me, and then you presume - get out,” Loki hisses at her, raising to his feet, the seeming of his adoptive father falling away. “How dare you. I am the king of this realm, and I will not have you waving your hands about and sauntering in here, making _demands_ of me as if you already own what is rightfully mine. Leave now, and perhaps you will leave alive.”

Missy sighs, puts her hands on her hips, and stares up at the ceiling. She had a feeling this was how it was going to go. “What an absolute _diva_ ,” she sighs, shaking her head, then draws herself up, clasping her hands behind her back, narrowing her eyes at Loki. “In my own right, I am the queen of the realm your people know as Hel, and I have been ruling planets and realms and entire realities much longer than you have, you impertinent little _whelp,_ possibly longer than you’ve even been alive, and I will tell you this as a favour - you let an enemy leave alive, and one day, _you_ won’t. Perhaps you say it in deference to my status, or perhaps you know not the limits of what I can do and your threat is as empty as my cold, black hearts. But it’s sheer cowardice to tell me to flee and pretend you’re offering me some massive, gracious out to the situation when really, what you’re doing is hoping I’ll give you one.” She saunters right up to him, even with him, her nose nearly bumping his. “Take your shot, babe, because I’m not going anywhere, so I guess you’re gonna have to kill me.”

Missy is not remotely surprised when the knife perforates her left heart. It hurts (a lot), but it will heal, and she has a second one for emergencies. She allows herself some theatrics - a shocked look, a gasp, a stumble backwards… and then she straightens, laughing. “Cute, but apparently I was right, and you do not know the limits of what I can do. I’m willing to negotiate, though, even after this abhorrent display of ill will towards a fellow monarch.”

Loki’s pretty pasty as it is, but somehow he manages to go even paler. She’s more fazed than she’s pretending to be - one heart being out of commission is _exceptionally_ painful, and a stiff breeze could probably knock her over, but she does not remotely waver, because when it comes to getting what she wants, she’s been through a hell of a lot worse than being one heart down. Black holes, original recipe fried Master, the whole thing with escaping Gallifrey during the war and then getting sucked back there with Rassilon…

“Fine. We’ll talk.”

“Ah, I do love the sound of men getting backed into corners they know they can’t get out of.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, I forgot I was writing fics, and I forgot this one was actually shaping up to be something, so here I am now, over a year later, updating this. Go figure. So there will be a few chapters like this one, detailing how she cons all these villains into alliances, before the actual meetings of what I have always called Villains Anonymous in my head.


End file.
